The title could apply to many things, just so the imagination doesn’t get out of hand, I’m talking about the massive amount of paper required to run a household.  Prior to her illness, Sharyl took care of that stuff at our house; while she was sick we helped each other do it her way. It is now mine to deal with.

I know the amount of mail hasn’t increased, but I don’t remember ever seeing piles of paper all over the house.  I’m not talking about junk mail; I’ve learned to recognize that stuff and pitch it or shred it immediately.  I always pitch the “Resident” stuff and shred or pitch the other stuff as appropriate, or at least put in the garage near the shredder.

I think I talked about this in a previous blog and didn’t know mail could be considered “clutter”.

Sharyl either pitched it or filed it almost immediately, and she didn’t pitch much of it.  I am a little more, I looked hard for another word but the only one that applies is, indecisive.  It is easy to say someone else is indecisive, but to say that about me takes some real effort.

The problem with pitching it too soon is obvious.  The only problem with filing it is, there comes a time when it should be “unfiled” (spellchecker doesn’t know about unfiled).  I Spent some time this week shredding some bank statements, cancelled checks, credit card statements, medical statements, etc.  I know on the 3^rd of August 1992, we paid Texaco $41.56 with check #596.  That same week Sharyl spent $4.37 for lunch at her favorite sandwich shop, the next day she apparently entertained a client because lunch was $13.87.

I actually got rid of most of the old stuff a couple years ago I had just overlooked a little of it.

I don’t know if my system is better because at this point I really don’t have a system.  A few months ago I converted one of our bedrooms to an office with a small desk from which to conduct household business.  Things were getting lost on my computer desk, way too much going on there to stay well enough organized to run the household.

This week I started to pay some bills.  I didn’t have room on my new desk to write a check; I had to go to the den and use my computer desk.  That served as a wakeup call; I now have room on that desk to write a check.  I pitched most of it, filed some of it and yes there is still a small pile awaiting my decision.

I am doing more things online or paperless and I have implemented some new rules for the paper things.  The only problem I see is someone needs to make me follow the new rules.  I am seriously considering going completely paperless by scanning everything and keeping a digital copy, then the new question.  Scan it and pitch it or just pitch it?

I really do have bigger problems.  I just felt like sharing a little of the light side tonight.

Please keep me in your prayers.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

I am probably in over my head with this one.  That certainly won’t be a first, so here goes.

I haven’t had a very good week, actually the past 2 or 3 haven’t met my expectations and I have learned not to set those expectations very high.  I have spent some time trying to understand why.  Is it the fall weather i.e. shorter days, longer nights or the thought of facing the winter holidays without two members of the family?

Those things probably contribute but I think subconsciously I feel I should have moved to the next plateau by now.

I think emotional plateaus are similar to the geographic kind, reasonably level with subtle highs and lows including a few unexpected bumps.  The transition from one plateau to the next makes the emotional kind unique.

The move to a lower plateau can be and usually is sudden and catastrophic like stepping off a cliff, thankfully, God usually places some family and friends near the bottom to help break the fall and to soften the landing.

The transition back to a higher plateau or level is a much slower and deliberate process.  The stairs or ramps that get you there are hard to find and the incline is not steep, making progress toward arriving at a new plateau difficult to detect.

I have stepped off three of those cliffs in the past four years, the details have been previously documented, in fact that is the reason I blog.  The one in November ’08 was completely unexpected, I didn’t really try to find the stairs to climb back up because it was highly probable there was another one ahead, although it wasn’t unexpected it came this past January and was much more catastrophic.  I thought I had arrived at the bottom; don’t ever make that mistake, believe me, there can always be another cliff.

I had found some slight inclines and was making a little progress back up the hill, and completely unexpected, in early March, I stepped off that third cliff. If there is a plateau lower than that one, I don’t want to think about it and I sure don’t want to go there.

I spent the next few weeks reminding myself to breathe and to place one foot in front of the other. The next few months I found an occasional ramp or set of stairs and by summer I had reached a higher plateau.

I thought by now I would have progressed to still another level; maybe I’m just impatient.  I don’t think this is as good as it gets, I fully believe higher plateaus are out there; I just wish I could find that next set of stairs.

I’ll be okay, thanks for listening and keep me in your prayers.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

I started smoking when I was about 15 and continued to smoke until I was about 40.  Everyone says it is hard to quit, I didn’t find it difficult at all, and I probably quit more than a hundred times.  I have quit as many as two or three times the same day, quitting is easy, not starting again is a whole nother issue.  I went through the same process with the smokeless stuff, or dip as it is called here in redneck country.  It just didn’t take as many years to kick that habit.

I was 66 when I picked up this habit called blogging; I had been off cigarettes for 25 years and hadn’t had a dip in more than ten.  I am beginning to think this is just as addictive as the nicotine, however, the surgeon general hasn’t declared it to be hazardous to one’s health.  The only two health issues I see are: I sometimes deprive myself of sleep to write these things and there is always the chance that my words could offend the wrong people.

I have quit writing a few times the past six months, in fact I quit this week, but just like the smokes, staying quit seems to be a problem. I like to write and I need to write, again like the smokes, I liked to smoke and I thought I needed to smoke.

Why did I quit?  If you have read me very long you know I write from the heart and I don’t leave much in there.  I thought I was starting to get a little redundant, saying the same thing, just saying it a little differently.  I would like to change my style and write about the fun and exciting things I do every day, there have been periods in my life I could have written some interesting stuff, maybe those days will return but right now fun and exciting aren’t descriptive of my daily routine.

I spent some time last night reviewing what I have written the past few months.  I even went way back in the archives and looked at some of the “Mom Life Cancer” stuff.  I saw a lot of room for improvement in the way I handle the English language; but I didn’t see the redundancy I was expecting.  Maybe it was there, I just didn’t want to see it so I can keep writing.

I used a non-word “nother” in the first paragraph. I know I have a few grammar police that read what I write.  I didn’t use nother just to bug you.  I used it as a lead in to put in a plug for a blog I follow http://grammarbelle.com/.   I think some of you will enjoy and appreciate what she has to say.  I provide her an unlimited supply of material.

I have to make one serious comment.  I talked about my almost 40 year addiction to nicotine; Sharyl never used tobacco of any form, not even one cigarette.  Why her and not me?

I am processing some thoughts for something a little more typical of what I usually do; they just need to stay on this side of the keyboard until I understand them well enough to share.

It is pretty obvious that I still need your prayers, and thanks for running down the road with me.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

One of the things we were taught in grade school math, or arithmetic if you are old like me, was how to round up and round down numbers.  If it is more than half you round to the next higher number less than half you go the other way.

Every fisherman I have ever known uses that round up process.  By Monday morning, the fish he caught Saturday that weighed 5 lbs 9 oz is 6 or 6 ½ lbs or if he caught 17 fish the round up process would take that to 20.   Rounding down is never used for weight or numbers of fish; it is only used to tell his wife the rod and reel that was $149.95 cost a little over $100.00 or that he will only be gone a couple hours.  Four or five hours later he shows up crying about the 6 ½ pound bass that got away.

I have done the round up thing, but I never needed to round down because Sharyl enjoyed fishing as much as I did and she didn’t care how much it cost if it would catch fish. I didn’t need to round down the time because she was almost always with me.  Sorry Jim, Gene, Ron and the list goes on but she was the best fishing partner I ever had and she would even do a little rounding up.

White Bass or “Sand Bass” as they are called regionally became our fish of choice, they don’t get very big and some other kinds taste better.  The method of pursuing them fit our style, catching them is pretty easy, finding them is the challenge.  One of my fondest memories of Sharyl is how excited she would get when the Sand Bass were really hitting.  It was quite common for the two of us to catch 30 or 40 in a couple hours and on a real good day we would approach triple digits.  Am I rounding up?  It’s your call.

Two or three times a year we would do a fish fry.  Those are four-step processes catch, clean, cook, and consume.  Sharyl enjoyed step one and she would consume a little bit of fish, I don’t remember her ever saying, “I sure am hungry for fish”.  I know she never cleaned a fish and I don’t think she ever cooked one.  I don’t enjoy cleaning them, but I kind of like to cook the things, I use one of those redneck macho outdoor cookers. Number of guests varied from as few as 8 or 10 to as many as 50.

Several years ago when Braxton was a little guy I was cleaning some fish.  I think Sharyl or his mom needed to get him out of their hair so they suggested he go outside and watch Paw Paw clean the fish.  I think he was expecting a little bar of soap, some small washcloths and towels; he was shocked at what he saw.  He watched for a little while and found something more interesting to do; let’s face it fish cleaning isn’t a real spectator sport.  A couple hours later he almost panicked when his mom told him to come in so she could get him cleaned up for dinner.

I would like to have a fish fry, maybe just to see if it is still fun, but there is a problem, I don’t have any fish.

A few days ago I went fishing, alone.  The first time I had fished since August 2009, that day in ’09 is one of those days I will always remember, it is the last time Sharyl was on the water.  We were with four very good friends and we caught a “boatload” of Sand Bass.  We still hadn’t used nor accepted the word terminal as it applied to Sharyl’s illness. We had plans to do it again next weekend or the next.  I don’t remember the last time just the two of us were on the water; it was sometime the previous fall; a time when we still took a lot of things for granted.

I needed to do the first trip alone I don’t know why; I just needed to.  I had fished alone a lot of times over the years but this time was different.  I think I was trying to accept this as part of the “new normal” I talked about in an earlier post.  I hooked a nice fish almost immediately.  I think mixed emotions is an over used term; I have used it over the years and thought I knew what it meant.  I now fully understand mixed emotions, it took something as simple as the excitement of a fish attacking my lure and the simultaneous realization Sharyl would never experience that again. I took it off the hook put in the live well (I use an old ice chest) and continued fishing.  I fished for about an hour; I caught seven, if Sharyl had been there we would have had fifteen.  She always caught at least one more than I did.  If you round that up it would be twenty.

It is not a pleasure trip this time but I am back at the lake. The new normal is slowly taking shape and I think I am beginning to leave some of today’s problems up in Hughes County (another reference to a previous post).

It has been a little bit of a tough week but I’ll get there. I love you babe and I miss you every day.

Thanks for reading what I write and keep me in your prayers.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

In my last post I talked about the reason for my recent trip and tried to share the important stuff.  If you have read me for a while, you know when I worked for a living I did some business travel. Upon my return to the office, some of my managers wanted me to do a trip report to fill them in on the important things.  I always wanted to include things like, the 20-hour weather delay in St. Louis, the fiasco at the car rental counter in Detroit, or the weirdo in the seat beside me from Atlanta to Cincinnati.  I could go on but I’m sure you get the idea.  My managers didn’t want to hear about that stuff.

Guess what, I’m going to share some thoughts and other goofy insignificant things from last week’s trip.  Traveling alone I had a lot of time to think about some serious things and some not so serious.  I know it is your option to read or not read, just let me believe someone finally heard the rest of the story.

It was the first long run I had made in a long time and the first without my favorite traveling companion in a very long time.  I don’t know how many miles I drove; I didn’t look at the odometer before I left or when I got home.  I wasn’t getting paid for mileage so it really didn’t matter.  While I was in Morgantown I noticed a lot of zeroes on the odometer; the little Chrysler hit 100k.  The cars they were building when the Interstates that took me there and back were new usually didn’t make trips like that if they had 100,000 miles.  Some old guys like me still complain, “They don’t build em like they used to”.

President Eisenhower or “Ike” is credited with getting funds approved to start construction of the interstate highway system.  I thought about him and Mayme driving the Chevy along I-70 from the White house to their hometown of Abilene, Ks in 1958 and them making the same 1200-mile trip today. Mayme might say, “Ike I’m not sure I like your Interstate highways, there are too many cars and all these trucks scare me”.  I’m glad Mayme wasn’t with me on I-40 /I-55 through West Memphis, Arkansas.

I thought about what those highways did for the trucking industry and I thought about what they did to the railroads.

I thought it was strange that the smallest vehicle on the road also made the most noise.  I followed a motorcycle onto I-44 from I-35 I liked the speed he was going but I couldn’t handle the noise, I passed him and found a nice quiet 18-wheeler to run with.

The run through Oklahoma and Missouri was pretty uneventful and most of the thoughts related to reaching my destination.  I wondered about one thing; in Oklahoma the department of transportation uses the acronym ODOT, in Missouri it is MODOT, I don’t know if Illinois and Indiana both use IDOT or if it is ILDOT and INDOT.

I think the state provided rest stops are becoming decent places to stop again.  During the 70s and 80s they were a mecca for drugs, prostitution and panhandlers, my stops were during the day, they may still get a little crazy at night.  I found these were good places to watch people.

I stopped at one in Tennessee with signs clearly directing cars, RVs and trucks to their respective parking areas.  One guy thought that meant all the other RVs, he used about nine spaces in the car parking area. It looked like a rental RV. The people traveling in it were taking pictures under a sign designating the place as the “Johnny Cash Rest Area”.  Maybe Johnny bought some drugs there back in the day.

The speed limit in Illinois and Indiana is 65 and most of the people actually drive 65.  I noticed in most of the states, people, to an extent have the same driving habits.  Tennessee is the exception; everyone kind of does it his or her way. In Illinois and Indiana they drive like old people; I know I am old, and I do a lot of other things like old people but I don’t drive like that.

Illinois and Indiana were both doing some much-needed repairs to I-70.  I did my drive on Saturday, the workers were not present but I hope no one else needs any of those orange barrels.  I think there was always one in sight between St. Louis and Indianapolis.

In Indianapolis I made a mental note to get a new GPS.  The maps in mine are 5 or 6 years old, and yes I know most of them can be upgraded. I bought a refurb on Ebay; I probably just need a new one.  The thing told me I needed to take exit 73B, I thought I saw my highway at exit 69, but the GPS is kind of like me it is almost always right.  I was still on a six lane I-70; I looked at the GPS and there was no highway showing.  If you have used one you know about the annoying voice telling you “When possible make a legal U-turn”.  Mine didn’t say anything; it was completely confused.  I stayed on the brand new section of I-70 and went through Indianapolis instead of taking the south bypass.  The GPS recovered and was okay for the rest of the trip.

I drove all the way across Ohio and spent a few minutes in the southwest corner of Pennsylvania, I didn’t see many orange barrels and they didn’t drive like old people.  I made up some time, if anything interesting happened I was probably asleep and missed it.  That is one small advantage to traveling alone, if you go to sleep no one rudely suggests you should stay awake.

I think I should have taken more pictures in Morgantown.  I saw a lot of photo-ops; I saw very few places to park.  I could have shot pics out the window but someone had to drive.  That is a disadvantage of traveling alone.

I like the way they drive the open road in West Virginia.  They kind of let the highway dictate how fast they go.  Speeds seemed to range from 70 uphill to pushing 90 downhill if the curves weren’t too severe.  I don’t know if the state troopers are forgiving; I didn’t see one.

I didn’t spend enough time in Virginia to form an opinion.  I guess I just drove and didn’t think.  I remember some construction.

Forgive me Tennessee; you may think I’m picking on you.  That isn’t the case at all; I was in the home stretch.  The serious thoughts were bundled and tucked away; I was ready to kick back, relax and see what was happening on I-40. I’ve already talked about driving habits in Tennessee.

I saw a guy pulling about a 16’ X 65’ mobile home, he passed an 18-wheeler; the 18-wheeler was doing at least 70.  The guy with the mobile home was pushing 80.  It was a little scary but kind of fun to watch; and yes I passed the mobile home, I just had to see what (truck and driver) was pulling it.

I saw 5 or six older ladies in a van owned by the state of South Carolina.  I was doing about 85 when they passed me.  I don’t know if the governor knew they were crossing Tennessee in one of his vans at 90 mph; I think the lady driving knew where they were but I don’t think she knew they were going 90.

I think the most exciting stretch of Interstate I traveled was I-40 from Memphis to Little Rock.  The first few miles not only carries the I-40 traffic headed west to OKC or maybe to LA it also carries the I-55 load headed north to St. Louis and Chicago.

I learned a long time ago that nothing you see or hear in Arkansas should be considered unusual.  Except for the traffic on I-40, what I saw in Arkansas will remain in Arkansas.

A final note:  I will probably never work again but if I do, I think I would like to work the night shift at a travel stop.  You know, the one that is always at the next exit on the Interstate, maybe between Little Rock and Memphis or between Tucumcari and Albuquerque (had to use spellchecker on that one).  I have always enjoyed analyzing people; those travel stops provide an endless supply of material.  I would only spend a few minutes with them, no long term relationships just a short visit and let my imagination run wild.  The coworkers would provide more than enough material for long-term evaluations.

Maybe I would have got the story on the couple in the overloaded Thunderbird with Alabama plates.  I think I even saw a corner of the kitchen sink in the backseat.  We traded places at least six times between Nashville and Oklahoma City.  Or maybe I could have learned about the white haired old man with Oklahoma plates that only bought a can of Red Bull and some peanuts, oh wait.

I know this one is different from my normal style.  I enjoyed writing it and if you are still reading, thank you.

Please consider a donation to the cancer research organization of your choice and continue to remember me in prayer.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

Forty-two years ago a young know-it-all in his late twenties accompanied by his wife and three year old daughter left our nation’s capitol late one afternoon on US50 headed west.  Sometime around midnight after too many miles of dark, narrow and crooked two-lane highway they found a room at a cheap motel in Parkersburg, West Virginia. Did I mention the rain?

The next morning, following a cool shower and breakfast with a bunch of rowdy mountaineers and coal miners at a smoke filled greasy spoon they found a partially completed Interstate and made their way to Kentucky.  Immediately upon entering Kentucky I looked at Sharyl (you probably already guessed it was us) and said, “If I ever cross West Virginia again it will be at thirty five thousand feet”.

Never say never; I did the 35,000 feet thing a few times over the years but I am writing this from ground level (not level ground) in Morgantown, West Virginia.  I need to apologize to the entire state.  The landscape is very attractive, the people aren’t very friendly but maybe someone told them what I said all those years ago.  I am enjoying my visit.

Why am I here?  I came to help that three-year-old daughter’s son celebrate his 21^st birthday.  He is now officially recognized as an adult; life has forced him to mature well beyond those 21 years.  He is here playing the sport he loves and continuing his education as a West Virginia Mountaineer.

I have developed a new appreciation for those guys and gals known as student athletes.

He looks much better than I did yhe morning after my 21st

We have spent time together as his schedule permitted.  He pitched a couple innings in an inter-squad practice Sunday afternoon. For you baseball buffs, he had a good outing. We had dinner and spent a couple hours visiting later in the evening.  Monday his day started with an 8:30 am class, he had time for his birthday dinner at 8:30 pm.  He wrote a paper after dinner and was in the weight room at 5:45 Tuesday morning.  We squeezed in breakfast between the weight room and a 9:30 class.  Dinner was at 8:30 again. I didn’t ask about his Wednesday schedule; I know it is one of his real busy days, after dinner we said a difficult good-bye.

Wednesday morning I looked in the rearview mirror as I merged with traffic on Interstate 79; I didn’t see the hilly town with the crooked and narrow streets.  When Morgantown became a city it wasn’t about north, south, east and west.  It was about following the terrain and getting from point A to point B, that practice has continued.  It really is a pretty town.

I saw a reflection of the past 21 years.  I saw the good times and the other times; a lot of smiles and also the tears.  I saw a young man of whom I am very proud.  He was on his way to class to continue his education, then to baseball practice to pursue the dream, and maybe some dinner about 8:30.  I said a little prayer thanking god and his mom and dad for the young man he has become.

I looked through the windshield, and yes I saw the Appalachian Mountains, the fall colors just beginning to evolve, but my focus was on the future.  I saw a family; a very close-knit family beginning to regain their emotional balance and footing and learn to walk again. With god’s continued help I am confident we will be OK, never the same but OK.

My focus returned to the foliage and traffic, after all I had about 4 hours of West Virginia to enjoy.  I hope to come see you guys again real soon.

I spent Wednesday night on the Cumberland Plateau in eastern Tennessee.  I mooched a

A cup of coffee and this view of the Cumberland Plateau started my day Thursday.

meal and a bed from my nephew and his wife. We talked about family, old times and genealogy among other things.  I’m still resisting the urge to spend some time checking my ancestry.  They have two dogs, Sammy is a “pound puppy” one branch of his family tree is Basset he liked me better over there.  Toto is a “found her standing beside the road puppy”, she liked me better close up and personal. Thank you Gary and Cathy for putting me up and for putting up with me.

I am back home, I enjoyed the trip and plan to do it again, but the flatlands and streets that run north, south, east and west, where most of the corners are 90 degrees sure look good.  I guess once a flatlander always a flatlander.

Please keep me in your prayers. Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

Cale and Conner always enjoyed competing in a good ballgame; baseball eventually became their sport of choice.  When they were young they played any kind of ball that was in season.  They played organized team sports; they played with just a bunch of kids on the playground; in my opinion that is the best kind.  They also played an awfully lot of one-on-one; it didn’t make any difference what kind of ball; if all they had available was a leaking air-up beach ball or maybe about a half roll of duct tape wadded up to resemble a ball they made that work.  They would figure out a set of rules and a scoring system; yes if you’re gonna play you gotta keep score.

Frequently the two of them faced each other in a game of baseball.  The rules allowed the use of “ghost runners”; I think a lot of kids used this system, adjusting the rules as necessary depending on how many players were there or maybe just depending on whose yard or neighborhood was hosting the game.  It didn’t really matter, just as long as everyone understood and agreed to whatever rules were in effect that day.

They were at the lake with Sharyl and I, I think they were about eight or nine; it was a typical hot Oklahoma August day.  I thought it was a sit in the shade kind of day, they thought it was a good day for a “ghost runner” baseball game.  They had been playing for at least two hours; stopping only as necessary to make sure there were no rules infractions, some of those discussions were a little heated but they always worked things out and the game continued.

I had spent the afternoon in the shade with a cold drink, observing, on a non-interference basis of course.  Sharyl had spent that time in the house, probably doing laundry, fixing dinner and a host of other things.  I didn’t know how those things got done; I have since learned that someone has to do them.

She walked out to the “ballpark” and suggested they quit playing, come in take a shower and get ready for dinner; They offered the typical “in a minute” or “after this inning” response.  In a few minutes she returned and suggested in a much stronger voice that they probably should get their rears in gear and do as they had been told; they responded with more promises.  I stayed in the shade and didn’t get involved, those things are more fun as an observer than they are as a participant and I knew Maw Maw was fully capable of handling the situation. She returned in a couple minutes and just as I expected, she handled the situation; the ballgame was over.  On their way to the house, Conner said in a very emotional voice “But Maw Maw it was only the top of the third”.  He was probably down a run or two.

I love you Conman, I miss you every day; I continue to try but I can’t understand why your “last at bat” came so soon, after all it was only the “top of the third”.  Please give your Maw Maw a hug for me and tell her I love her and miss her.

Thanks for listening, please keep me in your prayers.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

It has been a long weekend and next week is going to be difficult, I don’t understand my thoughts well enough to even consider sharing them tonight.  I am in a writing mood so I am going talk about some very random likes, dislikes, and pet peeves.  The odds of this one avoiding the recycle bin are slim.

I’m not talking about the obvious likes such as Ice Cream, little kids, spring showers, fall foliage or chicken fried steak and cream gravy.  That would be south of Interstate 40 on the cream gravy. It is real hard to find good cream gravy north of I40.

I like farm dogs, you know, the ones that walk around on the back of a flatbed one ton truck as it drives through the pasture or down I40 for that matter, those in the bed of a regular pickup aren’t in the same league, unless of course the pickup has a toolbox and old blue is standing on the toolbox.  I am amazed at their sense of balance, and the nonchalant way they walk around.  They always look happy and excited to be on the road.  I wonder if the excitement is about the trip or the destination, I believe it is the trip because normally when they reach the destination they just stay on the truck until it is time to leave.  I wonder about their names; I think a lot of them are named Blue or Possum or Cowboy or maybe Rebel.  I wonder if northern dogs are ever named Yankee.

My favorite dog that was not a member of our family was a farm dog, actually he was a Rodeo dog his name was J.D.; he disappeared from the back of my pickup during one of those stops when he couldn’t go in.  I hope he found a good home and lived to be a very happy old dog.

I don’t have a dog.  I am not responsible enough to give a dog a good home; they are probably better off wearing the title of stray than they would be living with me.  I like dogs although I will admit, most of the time I like them better over there than I like them over here.

As with the likes the dislikes are not about Broccoli, taxes, summer droughts, Cancer, winter ice storms, liver and onions or north of I40 cream gravy.

The introduction of the shopping cart several years ago (too much trouble to research exactly how many years ago) forever changed the way America bought groceries and in my opinion they made the discount department store a feasible marketing concept.  I only wish the guy that invented them would have known about round wheels. Is it just me or do almost all of them thump because at least one of the wheels isn’t round.  A few of them don’t thump but those normally have been run over in the parking lot causing them to veer to the right or left so severely that if you turn them loose before they stop they will hit you or someone else in the butt.  I think the most famous of the discount stores has a higher percentage of the real bad ones.  I try to give them a little test drive before I embark on my journey, because rarely do I find a real good one but like the days of our lives, some of them are better than others. That sometimes is a mistake because the person behind me will get the real loud one and follow me all over the store.

I am going to save the pet peeves for another time or maybe not at all and explain my cream gravy remarks.  It is really one of those “you had to be there” stories but I will try.

About thirty years ago about midnight on the way home from a weekend of rodeo in Kansas I stopped at an all night greasy spoon just barely in Oklahoma on I35 for a little coffee and a quick meal.  I was sitting with 2 or 3 young calf ropers from southern Oklahoma; we were eating Chicken Fried Steaks one of the calf ropers said about half to himself “You get north of I40 they don’t know what cream gravy is”.  I had never thought of it but he had a point and for some goofy reason the quote stayed with me.

In addition to the skills required to compete in rodeo, those kids learn at an early age how to “go down the road” and they also learn about Chicken Fried Steak, Cream Gravy, KFC, and powdered donuts.  My girls sometimes read what I write; I knew if I didn’t mention KFC and the powdered donuts one or both of them would remind me.

The young roper’s name was Charley, I don’t know if I have seen him since that night. Making a living and family obligations forced me to quit chasing the old rodeos shortly afterward.  It was kind of like quitting smoking; impossible to taper off I just had to do it cold turkey.

I like to think Charley is driving his flatbed one ton with old Blue or Possum riding on the back and teaching his kids or grandkids about Rodeo, Chicken Fried Steak, Cream Gravy and just going down the road.

Please keep me in your prayers, consider a donation to the cancer research organization of your choice.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

My dad lived by the Ben Franklin quote “Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy wealthy and wise”. I wouldn’t be wealthy if I had a dollar for each time I heard him say those words but I could probably buy dinner for all of you and your families.  I didn’t get that dollar so don’t get your hopes up, I’m not buying dinner.

I would never question dad’s wisdom, although being an extremely quiet person he never shared a lot of it.  If his bedtime schedule provided wealth, I shudder to think how poor we would have been if he was a night owl.  I also believe kicking the cigarettes forty years sooner would have had a more positive impact on his health than going to bed early. Dad has been gone almost 28 years; he suffered from emphysema and heart failure.  He was a few months the other side of 79; I still miss him.

Sorry Ben, I never bought in to your quote; I have always been something of a night owl.  My work schedule forced me to accept the early to rise part; I didn’t get wealthy but I did manage to buy groceries and pay the bills. Maybe my writing is an indicator of my wisdom; you can form your opinion and if you must comment, please humor me.  Today my health is okay for a 70-year-old night owl, that is all I will say because I know too well how suddenly one’s health can go the other way.

I think getting up early because I had to, not because I wanted to, labeled me an early morning grump.  I don’t really think I was grumpy I just don’t like to communicate for the first hour or so I am up.  Sharyl respected that, actually, accepted might better define her feelings.  I think the sound of the door closing as I left for work was the alarm or signal to start her day.  Weekends required a little special handling; we didn’t start a Saturday with a leisurely chat over a cup of coffee. I didn’t chat that early and Sharyl didn’t drink coffee.  By the time the girls got up I was usually over the grumps, I tried to think of a word other than grumps, I guess maybe the grumpy title was appropriate. They would proceed with caution until they were sure I was okay.

Thank god she didn’t quote Ben as often as Dad did but Sharyl was kind of a closet believer of the early to bed concept.  I respected or at least accepted that and didn’t initiate idle conversation after about 9:00pm; unless it was important I let her take the lead in those late conversations.  We discussed important family matters after 8am to accommodate me and before 9pm to fit her schedule. This is just another example of the little things that made it work for forty-six years.

After she got sick and I became her primary caregiver, the previous 43 years of sleep patterns went out the window.  Those of you having been in the role of caregiver including new mothers can relate to disrupted sleep patterns.  We had some of our more meaningful and memorable conversations between 9:00pm and 6:00am; there was no longer a place for my hour of morning quiet time.  I tried to rest when she slept and to be there and not be grumpy when she was awake. I did better at being there when she was awake than I did at resting when she slept, I probably didn’t get enough sleep but I have no complaints.

The past seven or eight months I have tried to reestablish an acceptable sleep pattern.  I haven’t had a lot of success.  Most nights for the first few months I slept about 4 or 5 hours between about 1:00am and 5:00 or 6:00am.  I had Ben’s early to rise thing down; I just couldn’t make the early to bed part work.  Recently I have been sleeping about six hours, however I am still awake until about 1:00 am, I just sleep a little later. My goal is to get to sleep before midnight and sleep until about six thirty.  I wonder if that would meet Ben’s criteria for “Early to bed and early to rise”.  Maybe I’ll try that tomorrow, it is already 12:30 and I have a few things I need to do before I go to bed and I’m really not sleepy.

Please keep me in your prayers.

Good Night and God Bless.

Dave

I always enjoyed the occasional day with no work and no responsibility; I’m not talking about the routine day-off with a preset agenda of things to do.  I’m talking about the very rare kind when I had no plan, no to do list, I could just do what I wanted to do as it occurred to me. Some of those days were very productive; trees got trimmed, or the garage straightened; others maybe I went car shopping with no intention of buying a car, just felt like kicking a tire and visiting with a salesman; still others I did absolutely nothing and sometimes didn’t start that until about noon.  I could go on but I think you get the idea.

I thought of them as Dave Days, I didn’t speak of them as Dave Days because someone, probably someone named Sharyl, would have suggested, “on your next Dave Day why don’t you…..”. With a to do list it wouldn’t have been a Dave Day. For most of my professional life that kind of day was extremely rare.

I retired in ’97 and started a second career with a defense contractor in’98, by about ’02 or ’03 I was trying to figure a way to convince my company and the government, it would be to their advantage if I only worked a 4-day week.  Sometimes a plan comes together; they approached me.  Due to some funding issues would I consider a 4-day week?  I should have at least acted a little upset, but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face; my response: “Please don’t throw me in that briar patch”.

I never heard Sharyl say, “When I retire”, that meant I would be home alone, without adult supervision every Friday.  Some of those Fridays I certainly had a list of things to do, but I suddenly had many more Dave Days.  That quickly became my new routine, work 4, take a Dave Day then spend a weekend with Sharyl; it just couldn’t get any better.

For a few years Sharyl and the girls had suggested that we move to Norman, I resisted but one guy against three girls, I wasn’t going to win that one. Sharyl’s commute was a 30-mile roundtrip, after the move it would be a 90-mile roundtrip.  She still didn’t say retirement as it applied to her, but she did agree to a 4-day workweek. We moved in ’05.

Instead of a Dave Day, I was now greeted on Friday morning with a very pleasant and familiar voice asking; “what is your plan for the day”?  If I didn’t have one, she did.  I thought of suggesting, in a very diplomatic way of course, that maybe she would enjoy being off on Monday instead of Friday.  I adjusted and we enjoyed some very special three-day weekends together. I also managed to rearrange my schedule and still have a Dave Day once in a while.

I never heard her use the term Sharyl Day, but I hope she enjoyed squeezing one in from time to time.  If you don’t, I highly recommend you try it.

Beginning in early November ’08 Dave Days were no longer a consideration. I know that many of you were very capable and willing to care for Sharyl, but a true Dave Day had to be without guilt or responsibility.

I now have too many Dave Days and they aren’t nearly as fun as they once were. To make them fun again I need to start most days with an agenda or to do list and yes there are plenty things I could use to populate that list.   I think I can learn to appreciate and enjoy an occasional Dave Day.

I know I would trade the very best of those days past and future for just one Friday morning conversation that began with that pleasant and familiar voice asking; “what is your plan for the day”?

I love you babe; I miss you every day.

Please consider a donation to the Cancer Research organization of your choice.

Good Night, God Bless and keep me in your prayers.

Dave